


A Different Kind of Love Story.

by Jwriter



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock BBC, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7549213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jwriter/pseuds/Jwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson falls for his Theory professor, Sherlock Holmes and when it turns out his feelings are reciprocated the two start a secret relationship. But why it is secret, and who Sherlock Holmes really is are things John has yet to discover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Teacher and A Student

Sherlock Holmes was said to be a genius, and nobody doubted it. At just 19 he was teaching classes at a major university in England. A university I happen to go to. Mr.Holmes is the teacher that everyone is afraid of but amazed by at the same time. He’s the strictest teacher but he’s brilliant. He can tell where you were yesterday, what you did last night, who you were with and what you ate for breakfast just by looking at you. People said he was heartless. Cold. An animal, said he traded his heart for his brain and never looked back. But I knew different. or at least, I found out.  
I’d been in his class since my first year at uni, and where other people saw him as frightening, I thought he was beautiful. His intelligence was fascinating. Other people saw him as intimidating but to me he was inviting, a book to be opened, a question waiting to be answered. But there were other things too that drew me to him, physical things. His voice for one, is indescribable, his hair is as black as the darkest night, sleek and unruly, it flies off in every direction yet still manages to look perfect . He’s about just over six foot . (much taller than me.) And his eyes. His eyes are the most beautifully alarming shade of emerald green, and if you look at them closely it’s as if you’re falling through them.  
It only took me about 3 years but i finally admitted that I was 4 things  
1)truly  
2)madly  
3)deeply  
4)foolishly and completely in love with my Theory professor.

_"A love more forbidden than Juliet_  
_More tragic than Titanic_  
_They both knew the risk and yet_  
_could not bare to end it._  
_a teacher and a student both_  
_with eyes but for each other_  
_they built a ship_  
_that would not last_  
_for flames could not be smothered_  
_a teacher and a student both_  
_with naught but broken hearts_  
_they tried to build a castle, love_  
_But then it fell apart._  
_It fell like sand from cowardice_  
_confusion and betrayal._  
_You ask me why I tell you this,_  
_this strange and broken tale._  
_For the teacher broke the students heart_  
_the test of which he failed._  
_And in due time with failure nigh_  
_the coward that he was_  
_broke both their hearts_  
_and saw released_  
_the one that he did love_  
_a teacher and a student both_  
_now gone their separate ways_  
_a teacher and a student both_  
_alone live out their days_  
_a teacher and a student both_  
_Is this the story’s end?_  
_a teacher with no student’s lost_  
_he’ll try to make amends_  
_a teacher with no student’s lost_  
_How will the story end?_  
_A teacher and a student both_  
_until the very end."_


	2. Chapter 2

John, we need to talk about your grade in my class. Can you meet me in the library after school?-SH

Yes. Of course, professor. -JW

Good. I'll see you at 5:00 then? -SH

Yes. -JW

Great. Now get back to class before we both get in trouble. -SH

Yes, Mr. Holmes. -JW

* * *

 

Sherlock was sitting in the library waiting for John. He'd gotten there 10 minutes early just in case. John finally walked in and spotted his professor, quickly walking over to him. He sat down across from Sherlock and put his bag in the seat next to him. "Afternoon." He said brightly. He was awfully nervous about this because he wasn't doing all that well in professor Holmes' class. The only reason he had decided to take Theory was because the Professor was hot. Sherlock smiled at John.

"Hello. How's your day been?" John shrugged.

"Eh, you know. It's ok." Sherlock smirked.

"How are your other classes?" John chewed the inside of his lip.

"They're good, yeah." He nodded shortly. "Um, Professor, I was wondering . . . Why did you call me here?" Sherlock had to think about that for a second.

"Oh! The paper!" He said suddenly and started digging through his bag. "S' in here, somewhere. . ." He muttered as he practically shoved his head into the messenger bag. "Aha! Here it is." He pulled out a paper from the bag with a flourish. 

John swallowed nervously. He knew what that probably was. A couple weeks ago they'd had to choose a theory or a philosophy and write about it. John had decided to be. . . different. He chose the science of deduction. Sherlock Holmes' own theory. He was confident while writing the paper but once he'd handed it in, he realized all the things he must have gotten wrong and he was dead certain that he had failed. 

Sherlock noticed how nervous John was. "Relax, it's not that bad." He pushed the paper over to John and leaned back, a smile tugging at his lips. He watched as John hesitantly took the paper. 

John looked at the marks on the essay and his jaw dropped as his eyes went wide. "What?!" He grinned and looked up at his teacher. "I've got a hundred?!" He exclaimed. 

Sherlock laughed. "Of course, why do you look so surprised?" He asked.

John sighed and fell back in his chair. "You said we had to talk about my grades! I was worried!" He said defensively. 

Sherlock's face fell slightly. "John, I'm sorry if I've caused you any stress, that was not my intention at all." 

John shook his head. "No, No. It's fine, I just, um. ." He rubbed his forehead and let his hand fall to the table. "School's just been getting to me, lately. That's all." He gave Sherlock a tight smile. 

Sherlock leaned forward and put his hand over John's. "If there's anything you need. If it's schoolwork or just someone to talk to." He paused, searching John's face. "I live on campus, so you can come see me anytime. I mean it. If its 11:00 at night and for some reason you're standing outside my door, I wont mind." He spoke quietly and firmly.

John's eyes flicked down to their hands. He slowly turned his over so that his palm was facing up and Sherlock's fingertips were brushing his wrist. His eyes came back up and met his professor's piercing green ones.

"Professor..." he breathed. 

"Call me, Sherlock." He said quietly. 

John swallowed and his pupils dilated fractionally. "Sherlock," he whispered. "Thank you." He said quickly and moved to get his bag and leave. 

Sherlock caught his wrist. "I was thinking tonight around 7:00." he said. John's head was turned to the side and down to his bag. He didn't move. He breathed and stayed perfectly still. Sherlock released his wrist. "I live in flat 221b. Just to talk." He added.

John nodded. "Just to talk." He repeated. He grabbed his bag and stood up. "Sherlock." He said quietly and gave him a short nod.

Sherlock smirked. "John." He said.

John lifted and dropped his shoulders, letting out a breath as he did so. "See you at seven then." He said and walked out of the library.

* * *

 

By the time John came around Sherlock had changed into a deep purple shirt and black trousers. There was a knock at the door. Sherlock straightened himself and opened the door. 

John stood there, smiling softly at him. "Hello again." He said. 

Sherlock gave him a small smile and stepped aside. 

"Come in."

John stepped in and Sherlock closed the door behind him. "Do you want a drink?" He asked casually.

John nodded. "Yeah, I'd love one." 

Sherlock disappeared into the kitchen and came back a few moments later with two glasses. He handed one to John, who had gone and sat on the couch. 

"Thanks." 

Sherlock sat down on the chair opposite, John. It was composed of rectangles of black leather for the back, seat, and armrests, all of which were held in place by silver rods. The whole of the thing balanced on silver legs and appeared quite posh but well worn. John couldn't help thinking that it fit Sherlock quite well, and he smiled at the thought. 

Sherlock crossed his legs and leaned back, his hand that was holding the glass rested on his knee. "So, John. How's school going?" He asked, with a grin as he raised the glass to his lips.

John chuckled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs, the glass cupped between his hands. "It's uh, it's great. Yeah." He held back a laugh slightly. "How's work?" He quipped. 

Sherlock laughed. "Oh, it's marvelous." 

John smiled and his heart warmed at the sound of that laugh. It was the most rare and beautiful sound that had ever reached his ears. 

Sherlock regarded John over the top of his glass. "So," he said suddenly, placing the glass on the floor next to his chair and sitting up. "Are you taking anyone to the winter ball? I know it's only the beginning of the year but maybe you already have someone in mind?" 

John licked his lips. He hesitated. He swallowed and then looked at Sherlock. "Yeah, I had someone in mind." He said softly. "But they're completely out of my league." he added matter of factually. 

Sherlock raised his eyebrows "Oh, really. I'm sure that's not true. You're practically at the top of the social status." he said.

John laughed softly and shook his head. He looked down at the glass in his hands and fiddled with it. "They're not even part of the 'social status' as you put it." He muttered. 

Sherlock leaned forward, his eyes narrowed.

"Well....?" he said eventually. 

John looked up. "What?" 

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Aren't you going to tell me who it is?" he said. 

John swallowed. He was suddenly nervous and his heart was beating erratically  "Um.." he cleared his throat but his voice still came out slightly hoarse. "I know I'm not supposed to... um.. well.... It's a professor." He finally got out, by this time he was shaking and not able to look Sherlock in the eye.  

Sherlock didn't draw back at all. "Oh." he breathed. 

"Yeah." John replied quietly, still looking at his hands. A moment of silence passed between them, Sherlock's determined eye's flitting across John's face. Finally;

"Hooper." Sherlock said triumphantly. 

"What?" John looked up, confused.

"It's Molly Hooper, your anatomy professor." He replied. 

A smile crept onto John's lips. He shook his head. "No, not her." he said.

Sherlock frowned. All the other professor were either not John's type, or too old. He didn't understand. "I don't- who is it?" he shook his head, just as confused as John had been a moment ago.

John took a deep breath. "Well. . . "  he said slowly. He looked up at Sherlock, his heart pounding "I have this theory professor. . . "

* * *

 Sherlock nodded. "Oh. Right."

John looked at him. Pointedly.

Sherlock stared back at John.

John rolled his eyes. And sat back.

Sherlock still stared back at him. And then he jumped back in his seat, his eyes wide. His throat went tight and he coughed.

"Sherlock."

"Me." Sherlock choked out.

John nodded.

Sherlock stared at the floor. "You want to take me to the winter ball." He said slowly.

John nodded slowly. "If- if thats ok." He said.

Sherlock shook his head. "No." He said. His fingers gripped the armrests. "If this is a joke." He hissed.

John shook his head vehemently. "No, no, not at all."

Sherlock shook his head. "John."

"Sherlock, look at me. Look at me and tell me if I am lying, break it down, deduce it." He said firmly.

Sherlock looked up at him.

John looked him square in the eyes. "I want to take you to the winter ball. I have wanted to do much more than that from the minute I walked into your classroom." He held out his hands "Well?"

Sherlock took a deep breath and then immediately shot off deductions. 

"Relaxed body language, not twitching, blinking abnormally ha! No. Draft. Damn it. There's a twitch in your left hand you fiddle with your fingers, I noticed that when you first came into my class it's a nervous tick, so, nervous... nervous because- speech pattern not memorized because- eyes dilated- because you're telling the truth. Oh." He stopped, out of breath, his eyes wide. "Oh." He breathed. He moved to kneel in front of John, taking his face in his hands and looking closely at him. "Oh." He said again.

John exhaled nervously. "Yeah." He said. His eyes fell down to Sherlock's lips. He'd never been this close to the other man, it probably wasn't appropriate considering Sherlock's job and John's position but right now, God, John didn't care. He breathed in deeply taking in the smell of Sherlock and mint toothpaste and whiskey. He rested his forehead against Sherlock's and closed his eyes, breathing evenly.  

Sherlock moved back into his seat, pulling John with him by the hand.

John opened his eyes and followed Sherlock into the armchair. They were still closer than was socially acceptable and John's whole body was tingling and warm and all he wanted was Sherlock. He understood now how people could describe themselves as being overpowered by desires. It was impulsive when he leaned down and brushed his lips over Sherlock's.

Sherlock exhaled and pulled him closer.

John straddle Sherlock, a knee on either side of him and pulled his head back a bit so that Sherlock's neck was slightly arched and he was looking up at John. John leaned over to kiss him, covering Sherlock's body with his own. He kissed him hard.

Sherlock pulled John closer, pressing their bodies together. He moaned, intoxicated by the taste of John's mouth. It was hot and wet and forbidden laced with red wine. He felt a pang of terror shoot through him as he remembered: This is his student. This is his _student_.

John moved his lips to Sherlock's neck and Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but instead uttered a low moan as John sucked at the spot beneath his ear.

John traced the shell of Sherlock's ear with his tongue. He pressed his lips against it. "Professor." He whispered as he clutched at Sherlock's top.

Sherlock moaned at John's voice, practically laced with sin. And well, if John was the apple then Sherlock should change his name to Adam, because he was going to bite.

John slid down onto Sherlock's lap. He wrapped his arms around his teacher's neck and kissed him again, slow and deep this time.

Sherlock kissed him back, his fingers finding their way to John's hair. He pulled away breathing heavily.

"Winter ball it is, then."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble in paradise

"Morning Mr.Holmes."

Sherlock tried to hold back a smile. "Morning, John."

Unsuccessfully.

John took his seat at the back of the classroom next to Greg.

"He likes you, you know."

John smiled. "Yeah, I know."

"Well then why don't you ask him out, John?"

John smiled at Greg. "I don't have to."

Greg's jaw dropped "I knew it!" He said rather loudly.

John clamped a hand down over his mouth. "Keep it down, yeah?" he spoke sternly, fighting a losing battle against a grin.

Greg pushed his hand away and leaned in, speaking in a stage whisper. "How long?"

" 'bout a week."

Greg leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. "Oh that's fantastic, John. And we all thought he was a heartless bastard."

John leaned over. "Greg, listen to me. You cant tell anyone do you understand? Not a single soul. Not yet, at least."

Greg frowned. "Why not? Everyone already knows you two fancy each other."

John gave him a look, and Greg gave him a look back. "It's not that much of a secret, John. You tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, mate." Just then, John's phone buzzed.

[Pay attention, John. SH]

John chuckled and looked up at the front of the room to Sherlock. 'Sorry' he mouthed and smiled apologetically.

Greg craned his neck trying to read the text. "It's from him isn't it. What's it say?"

The phone buzzed again. [You too, Lestrade. SH]

John handed the phone to Greg. "See for yourself." He held out his hand, not looking at Greg as the phone was handed back to him. He smirked and shoved it back into his pocket.

* * *

 Five minutes to the end of class, John got another text.

[You and Lestrade. See me after class. SH]

John frowned and handed the phone to Greg. Five minutes later, they were standing in front of Sherlock's desk as he looked at them both with his hands folded under his chin.

"I'm assuming you know about our current situation." He was addressing Greg.

"Sorry?"

Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes and lowering his hands. "Don't play dumb, Lestrade. It doesn't suit you."

Greg lowered his head and cleared his throat. "Yes sir."

"Good. Then I'm assuming you've already been informed not to tell another living soul. Am I right?"

Greg nodded. "Yes sir."

"Excellent. Well then, that's all. Off you go." He made a vague shooing motion with his hand.

Greg nodded, relieved and walked out of the room. John moved to follow him.

"John."

He stopped and turned around.

Sherlock held out a hand. "Come here." He inclined his head as he spoke.

John walked over to where Sherlock was sitting and Sherlock placed his hands on John's hips, looking up at him. "Is this OK?" he asked.

John placed his hands on Sherlock's shoulders and looked down at him. "Yeah." he said softly.

Sherlock looked down at his feet. "I know you'll want to tell people eventually." He said quietly. John gently tilted his chin up. "Hey." he said softly. "Only when you want to too."

Sherlock pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around John's waist. "I'm just trying to do what's best. And right now, that means keeping us, between us." John didn't say anything and Sherlock sighed. He pressed his face into John's shirt. "John." he said, and it was muffled slightly. 

John ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair but still didn't say anything. 

"I'm sorry." Sherlock mumbled.

John sighed. "For what?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry to interrupt, it's just I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you." -Arctic Monkeys, Do I wanna know?

John had a bit of a problem. Well, not according to John. According to John, everything was fine. It was according to Sherlock, that there was a problem. It was about the beginning of November that it got quite bad....

* * *

 

John liked to try and kiss Sherlock during class. Sherlock only noticed when John became very, very persistent. There were days when John would grab at Sherlock's ass, or look at him in a certain way that would make his trousers just a little tighter. Unbeknownst to Sherlock, this was one of those days.

They were working on another paper and Sherlock was walking around the room, checking people's thesis's  and topics, when he got to John.

"What are you going to write about?" He asked.

John leaned forward with a smirk. "My sexy professor."

Sherlock looked around and then gave John a look and leaned over his desk, pointing at a spot on the paper in front of John. "Keep your voice down." He hissed.

John leaned forward so that his face was inches from Sherlock's. Glancing down at Sherlock's lips he mumbled. "s'not my fault." He darted forward and pressed his lips the Sherlock's.

Sherlock immediately drew back. "John!" He hissed "You have got to stop doing that!"

John grinned. "Why? It's kind of fun. Under all their noses." He leaned forward and kissed him again, this time parting Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock felt himself give in and kiss back, but he quickly pulled away. "Stop it." He said sternly "Do you want someone to find out?"

John considered this for a moment and then spoke.

"Yeah." he said quietly, not breaking Sherlock's gaze. In fact you could go so far as to say that John's look was that of a rebellious teenager defying a parent, just daring to be challenged. 

Sherlock gave him a stern look and stood up.

"We'll talk about this more after class."

John opened his mouth to speak but before he could respond, Sherlock moved on to the next student.

* * *

 

At the bell, John stayed behind and waited for all the other students to leave. When they had gone, and Sherlock had closed the door, he pressed him against it and kissed him desperately.

Sherlock hesitated, but kissed him back, grabbing John's wandering hands by the wrists. He soon pulled away and walked over to his desk, leaning on the front of it. He sighed.

"You cant keep doing this. We're going to be seen." he said, shaking his head. 

John walked over to him and stood in front of him.

"I don't understand. What's so bad about that?"

Sherlock sighed, looked away, and then took John's hand and pulled him against his chest. He waited a moment, before speaking quietly into John's hair.

"It's basically illegal. You and me, like this. They could fire me. Accuse me of corrupting and sexually assaulting you. I'd never see you again."

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's middle and held him tightly.

"What if I tell them it's ok? That I love you."

Sherlock shook his head. "Don't be so naive. They wouldn't see it as love. More like, Stockholm syndrome."

John pulled back and shook his head.

"That's not fair. That's not fucking fair!" He said angrily. "I hardly get to see you during the day! When I do, I have to pretend as if I'm not madly in love with you! There's a stupid curfew so I can barely see you after school and honestly I don't even know if I want to be with you if it's gotta be like this!!" He cried, clearly at a loss for what to do and continued emphatically.  "But I do want to be with you Sherlock I do but,-"

"John."

"What?!" He cried, exasperatedly. 

Sherlock walked over to him and took his hand. He looked at John, searching his face, his expression unsure.

John relaxed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't. Don't apologize. You have every right to be upset." Sherlock murmured and leaned down to kiss him. "I don't like it either." he whispered when he pulled away. "But that's how it has to be for now."

John ran a hand through Sherlock's hair and nodded. "There's a game... uh... tonight. I was wondering if you.." He said softly and then looked at his watch, frowning. "Oh shit!" He said suddenly. "Shit shit shit!" He looked up at Sherlock, his face panic stricken. "I'm late for practice, oh coach is gonna kill me!" he groaned.

Sherlock smirked, an amused look flickering on his face.

John groaned again. "It's not funny! He might actually kill me!" He said frantically. He started looking around the room for his bag when Sherlock pulled it out from underneath his desk and handed it to him. John took it and gave Sherlock a quick kiss, mumbling a goodbye and rushing out of the room.

A few moments later he came back and without a word kissed Sherlock heatedly against the chalkboard. "For good luck." He breathed when they parted and then he was gone.

Sherlock stared after him in shock and then he slowly smiled and laughed, rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand.

* * *

 

A little while later, Sherlock was cleaning up the classroom, gathering tests off of the desks and clearing the chalkboard when Molly Hooper, the anatomy teacher came in.

"Doing a bit on how to know when someone's been snogged up against a chalkboard, then?" She said with a small smile.

Sherlock whirled around.

"What do mean?" He asked quickly.

She stepped forward and brushed a hand down his back, bringing it back up they found it white with chalk.

Sherlock sighed. "Damn it."

Molly giggled and leaned against the desk. "You're quite the couple aren't you?"

He groaned and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "How did you know?"

She shrugged, "A little bird told me." she whispered, before walking out of the room.

He stared after her for a minute and then shook his head. He packed up his stuff and walked out of the room. He had a rugby game to get to.


	5. Old Wounds

They lost the game. First home game of the season and they lost. John was inconsolable, he was convinced that it was all his fault. Sherlock was trying to help, but John was a bit mad at him because he hadn't shown up until the game was over. To say john was a bit mad would be a bit of an understatement. He was fuming. 

"John I told you, my supervisor-- the bastard-- called a meeting at the last minute and I couldn't get out of it!"

John shoved past Sherlock and into the locker room.

"I don't want to hear it, Sherlock." He muttered.

Sherlock followed him in and leaned against the locker next to John's. "You do realize that I'm a professor, John I have a job. I can't always be there."

John pulled his jersey off, and shoved it in his locker. He reached for his shirt to put on but froze when he felt a hand on his shoulder blade. He was bent over, one hand on the bench to pick up his shirt. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. The hand traveled gently down his spine.

"How did this happen?" Sherlock murmured, he was referring of course to the small scars scattered down John's back. He wondered how he hadn't noticed them before.

"I fell on some glass when I was younger. It's nothing." John said quietly. He straightened up and moved to pull the shirt over his head, but it was grabbed from his hands.

"John."

He turned and faced Sherlock.

"What." He said clearly irritated. He opened and closed his fists at his side.   

Sherlock sighed and handed him back the shirt, which John quickly pulled on, avoiding Sherlock's gaze.

When he had finished changing, Sherlock grabbed John's bag and they walked out of the locker room in silence.

As they neared the dorms Sherlock took John's hand.

"I want you to stay at my place tonight."

John sighed.

"Sherlock I have--"

"You can shower there."

John sighed again and didn't argue. He was too tired.

Sherlock pulled the bag higher on his shoulder and started in the direction of his rooms.

John followed after him.

Once they were inside Sherlock dropped John's bag on the couch and turned on the shower.

John turned on the kettle and made them both a cup of tea while he waited for the water to warm. Then he undressed and got into the shower. He stood under the too hot water and let it relax his muscles. He let out a breath and closed his eyes. He jumped when he felt a body behind him: Sherlock.

"Sherlock what are you--" He stopped when Sherlock grabbed his hips and pressed his lips to John's neck. He was still slightly insecure when it came to nude activities involving Sherlock and right now was no exception. His whole body tensed up again.

Sherlock turned him around and kissed him gently and slowly until John relaxed and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and rested his head on his shoulder.

Sherlock placed his hands on John's shoulders and rubbed the knots out of his back. He moved lower and John leaned against him, moaning softly. Sherlock finished rubbing John's back, he got a cloth and started washing him.

John watched Sherlock, in awe. No one had ever done anything like this for him. No one had ever shown that they cared this much.

Sherlock helped John out of the shower, dried him off and dressed him.

When he had finished, John pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him. When they parted, John looked Sherlock in the eyes and spoke quietly, running a thumb across Sherlock's bottom lip.

"I love you."

Sherlock kissed him again, deeper this time and John knew what he was saying as he squeezed his hand. Sherlock continued kissing him for a few a few minutes and then pulled him out to the bedroom.

John climbed onto the bed and curled into Sherlock's chest. They laid there in a comfortable silence for a while, just listening to each other's breathing; the only thing disturbing the air until John spoke.

"I didn't fall." He whispered.

"I know."

"I got in a fight. At a bar. My sister was drunk and these guys were just... taking advantage of her. I tried to stop them. Someone broke the neck of a bottle, I was just trying to get this guy off my sister, they were being so awful, I was just... stupid. I was just stupid. And I didn't see him and...." He trailed off.

Sherlock nodded and pressed his lips to John's forehead.

"It's okay." He murmured.

 


	6. December 19th

"You should come with me."

John suggested as he packed his suitcase for the Christmas holiday.

Sherlock snorted. He was lying on John's bed pouting about how John was leaving.

"I don't think showing up for Christmas with your professor would be very good. Do you?" He sat up. "Oh hello Mum and Dad I'd like you to meet my boyfriend who's also one of my teachers isn't that just grand? Anyway how have you been?" He went on in a mockingly cheerful tone before falling back to his previous position.

John smiled at him and closed the suitcase. Pushing it off the bed, he climbed on and shoved Sherlock over.

Sherlock almost fell off the bed and grabbed John's shirt. He ended up yanking them closer together and he gasped softly.

John leaned in closer to Sherlock, probably to kiss him but Sherlock drew back slightly.

"Come with me." John repeated, quietly.

Sherlock released his grip on John's shirt and half fell, half climbed off the bed so that he was sitting on the floor leaning against it.

"I can't" He said quietly, picking at the carpet. They sat therefor a minute and then Sherlock suddenly spoke.

"Do you know how to dance?" He stood at the end of John's bed.

John frowned. "What?" 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and held out his hand. 

"For the ball. You need to know how to dance. Come on, I've watched you fumble through that first waltz for three years now and I refuse to be embarrassed by your appalling footwork."

John gave him a wary look but took his hand.

Sherlock pulled John up and against him. He placed his hand on John's shoulder and instructed John to put a hand on his waist.

John coughed and cleared his throat. "Where?"

Sherlock fought the urge to roll his eyes and took John's free hand, placing it just above his hip. He replaced his hand on John's shoulder and started moving.

"Just follow me." He murmured as he slowly waltzed them in a circle. John had his head down, watching their feet and trying not to step on top of Sherlock. After a while he felt he had the hang of it and glanced up at Sherlock. Sherlock smirked a little until John lost focus and tripped them. Sherlock tried to stay up but ended up falling onto his back, John on top of him. John stared at Sherlock, his eyes bright and his mouth pursed as if he was trying to hold something in. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and they both burst out laughing.

"Sorry." John said through bouts of laughter.

Sherlock had his head back against the carpet and his neck exposed as he laughed. It was a loud, deep, cheerful sound.

John quieted as he looked at Sherlock's neck. He couldn't help it, it was just there. Sherlock was still chuckling and John bet if he pressed his lips to Sherlock's neck he would be able to feel that laugh. He bit his lip and as that thought crossed through his mind.

Sherlock had stopped laughing. He sat up with John in his lap.

"Is something wrong?"

John stared at Sherlock's neck and swallowed.

"No. Nothing."

Sherlock nodded and then stood up. He helped John to his feet and stepped back.   

"I should... go." He said and walked to the door.

"Sherlock?"

He paused with one hand on the door handle but did not turn around.

"Think about it."

He turned and gave John a tight smile, and then left.

* * *

 

Sherlock did think about it. He thought about nothing else for the next couple of days. In fact, he was _still_ thinking about it on the twenty-third, when a car showed up at his flat. He looked out the window and rolled his eyes and went back to playing his violin. He ignored the vehicle for the whole day.

 

When he finally went out, after the sun had fully set, it was with an accomplished smirk at the annoyed expression on the driver's face. He got into the car and sat silently throughout the trip. 

. . .

They pulled up at a large white building with thick pillars, placed on the corner of a street. Sherlock stepped out of the car and into the building, looking around with an expression of disdain. He was led to a large room that resembled an auditorium or a court room, with a desk at the far end. Sitting behind the desk was an intimidating man with a hawkish nose. The door shut, and Sherlock and the man were left alone. Sherlock avoided looking at the man. The man straightened a paper on his desk and cleared his throat.

"So," He spoke in a thick Slovak accent, he was about to continue when Sherlock cut him off.

"We both know why I am here, why don't we skip the formalities." He said quickly and coldly. The man nodded and straightened his paper again.

"He trusts you?" The man cocked an eyebrow as he asked his question.

Sherlock nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Good." 

Sherlock didn't feel a reply was necessary.

"Can you get it?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course I can get it!" He snapped, slightly annoyed. "That is why you hired me isn't it?"

The man regarded him for a moment and then leaned forward slightly.

"You're not.... attached?"

Sherlock leaned over the desk, his face mere inches from the man's.

"You know I'm not." He snarled before stalking out of the room. The door slammed behind him.   


End file.
